Page 57 of Unhurried Hearts

“Don’t tease, Chris.”

He ignores me, a look of total satisfaction on his face before he dips down to take my right nipple between his lips. The tugging sensation shoots right down to my core. I’m so wet that if he let go of me I know I’d slide right down his length.

Oh, God.

I grip as much of his short hair as I can in my fist and pull him off my breast. Reluctantly, he lets me go, the popping sound of his mouth audible over the steady spray. Two can play this teasing game. The skin of his neck is hot and slightly salty when I bite into it. Those big, rough hands make indents on my hips as he groans at the feel of my teeth on his throat. I soothe the little red mark with my tongue, making my way up to the lobe of his ear where I do it again.

“Jesus, Anna.”

His cock twitches inside me. Just when I think I’m gaining the upper hand, Chris adjusts the grip he has on my ass and pushes me down the rest of the way. I gasp, drops of warm water falling into my mouth as he hits me so deep my eyes roll.

“So perfect,” he groans, lips against my throat. “So perfect for me.”

His words hit home, and I’m not surprised when I return them. “You’re perfect for me, too.”

Drawing back from my throat long enough to study my face, he lifts me a few inches and slides me back down his cock. After sitting still for so long the friction is unbelievable. Chris takes total control of the rhythm and it’s all I can do to hold on. The muscles of his shoulders flex beneath my palms as he manipulates my body to pleasure us both. Between the cock driving between my legs, thesmoky masculine scent of the man under me, and the driving water on my back, I’m close. So fucking close.

“Come for me, Anna. God, I need to feel you come on my cock.”

“Yes!” I toss my head, my soaking wet hair tickling my lower back.

My body grips him each time he lifts me up like it’s fighting to keep him inside. When I tip my hips so I can grind my clit against him I’m done for. My cries reverberate off the glass and tile of the bathroom. Chris’s thrusts become ragged and shallow and when he takes his hands off my hips and wraps one arm around my back and the other behind my head, groaning my name, I come. Using the last of the power I have in my tired thighs I ride out the orgasm, knowing he’s right there with me.

When I stop contracting around him, he lifts me off his lap.

“That was unreal,” he says, pressing kisses to my hairline.

The sheer enormity of the weekend hits me like a ton of bricks. The sex, the physical exertion of the hike, the emotional connection of spending forty-eight hours with someone while you share every meal and brush your teeth by the campfire. When I think about going back to my empty studio and getting back to work tomorrow, tearssting my eyes, even hotter than the shower spray. How can I already be this attached to him? Is this what happens when you have sex? It can’t only be that. The sharp click of a bottle and strong fingers in my hair bring me back from worrying about tomorrow.

“Are you…washing my hair?”

“Yes. You smell like a barbecue.”

Exhaustion keeps me from fully laughing but I smile and give in to the special treatment. The smell that floats through the humid air is familiar.

“Chris? What shampoo is that?”

“The one you used on me at your salon. Essence of Mint and Lav--”

My eyes pop open. “You bought shampoo from my salon?”

“Yeah, I like the way it smells. It, uh, made me think of you.”

My stomach cartwheels. Outdoors enthusiast Christopher Wolfe is washing my hair with expensive salon shampoo that he bought sometime in the last couple of weeks because it made him think of me. Maybe because I’m not on the receiving end of hair washes often enough, or because I’ve been touch deprived for too long, but his strong hands are delicious. So luxurious that I don’t know how much longer I can stand up. He moves my hair this wayand that, kneading my scalp which is sore from the tight ponytail I wore all weekend. The moan that escapes me is shockingly close in volume to the ones I made when I came.

“Damn, maybe you should hire me to do hair washes at the salon.” He takes the shower head off the wall and thoroughly rinses.

My nose wrinkles, jealousy overtaking me at the thought of Chris doing this to anybody else.

“Absolutely not. You’re only allowed to do this to me.”

“Noted.”

The same rich smell fills the air again as he starts to comb his fingers through my ends.

“Conditioner!”

Are you kidding me?The guy has one inch of hair.

---